Determined to forget her ex-fiancé and
gather the remains of her betrayed heart, Charisma Claiborne scrapes together
her hard earned pennies for a dream trip to Las Vegas. On her first day in town, she has an accident
with an eccentric casino owner. Enthralled
by his good looks, she falls into his bed for a steamy one night stand.

But Hunt Blackwater is more than a
mysterious, gorgeous casino owner.
Rumors of a Native American curse and a string of inexplicable deaths
follow in his wake - but the most terrifying is his ability to reach right into
Charisma’s soul and make her want the things she’s convinced herself she can do
without.

Unwilling to get in over her head,
Charisma cuts her trip short and returns home, but trouble seems to follow
her. With remembered whispers of curses
in her ears and the lingering smell of death in her nose, she wonders if she is
his next victim. Things go from puzzling
to harrowing as Charisma comes face to face with the greatest betrayal she
could ever imagine.

Charisma
swallowed hard, standing in front of the door to Hunt’s suite. What lay behind it? It was like he was opening the lid to
Pandora’s Box.

Hunt
held her gaze, and took her purse when the door clicked open. “I like being in charge of things. You won’t have a problem with that.”

The
carnal rumble in his voice rekindled a fire deep inside of her that Charisma
had thought was long dead. She’d become
so tired of the struggle to keep her life together; tired of trying to take
care of herself and every situation in her single life. How liberating it would be to surrender
control to this man.

“I
don’t have a problem with it.”

Hunt
held out his hand. “You mentioned a
shower.”

He led
her down a hallway to the bathroom.
Charisma was so nervous she hardly noticed the large, jetted tub. Hunt took off his suit jacket and laid it on
the vanity, opened the glass door to the shower and turned on the water. He leaned in, relaxing his posture as he
maintained firm eye contact. “I think
I’ll have you begin by undressing me.”

The
shower seemed to get louder with each passing second. Charisma’s fingers shook as she struggled to
undo each button on his shirt. What was
she doing? She’d never been in a shower
with a man before, nor had she undressed a man.

He
pulled the shirt off, throwing it on the double vanity. Naked, he would be even more intimidating
than, and as gorgeous, as a god. His
tanned chest was sprinkled with dark hair atop rippling abs. Charisma’s pulse thudded inside her
neck. I’m really going to do this.

“Now. Take off your clothes. All of them.”
His voice was sharp.

Charisma
couldn’t look him in the eye, as she reached around to unzip her skirt. She
allowed it to fall to the floor, but hesitated to unbutton her blouse.

“The
shirt comes off too.”

Her
fingers finally completed the task. She
stood, motionless, awaiting a look of disapproval on Hunt’s face as his eyes
zeroed in on her curvaceous hips.

“I
don’t think you’re finished. I still see
panties and a bra.”

Charisma’s
face was flaming. She reached around to
unhook her bra, biting down on her bottom lip as her traitorous nipples told of
her arousal.

Hunt’s
lips parted, and he lowered his voice.
“I can see your embarrassment.
You’re beautiful.” She relaxed
slightly as he ran his hand over her hip.
“You’re not to be ashamed.
Understood?”

Charisma
nodded, looking at the floor.

“Miss
Claiborne, look at me.”

His
eyes glittered as they roamed over her.
Her body responded in a warm flood, as he murmured his approval.

Charisma
trembled with desire, keenly aware of her pulse, as Hunt unzipped his pants,
freeing his erection. Her muscles
clenched at his size.

“You’re
still blushing. You see how hard I am
for you, and you will not be ashamed.”

Steam
escaped as he opened the shower door.
She stepped into the hot stream, Hunt behind her.

“Turn
and face me. On your knees.”

Jenna Fox is a civilized hillbilly, mother, wife and
multi published author of erotic romance residing in Eastern Tennessee. She
enjoys reading and jotting down poetry in her spare time. Besides
juggling a busy family life, Fox reviews and critiques for other authors and
crafts her own dark erotic tales. Stories always feature a mysterious alpha
male with unexpected twists to shock the reader. She believes in HFN and HEA
endings, although not always in a romantic or conventional way.

Her work is born from real life experiences, an overactive
imagination and a consuming caffeine addiction. Sometimes she finds
herself writing sex scenes on fast food napkins and store receipts while
waiting in traffic, but she’s always guilty of keeping her mind in the
gutter. Fox is a listener of hard rock music and a watcher of
classic slasher films. In short, she’s a writer, a storyteller, able to make a
boo-boo all better with just one kiss and a proud, world class expert at
screwing up recipes and scaring away closet monsters. She believes
in ghosts and God and is absolutely convinced chocolate soothes the savage
beast.

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